The Silver Chalice (25 page)

Basil was received on his second visit to the House of Kaukben in a low-ceilinged room directly under the roof. Helena came in to greet him immediately, wearing a plain linen gown that covered her from throat to feet. Her hair was no longer massed on her head but flowed like black satin over her shoulders. She nodded to him with an impersonal gravity.

“The master will see you in a few minutes,” she said. “May I offer you a cup of wine? It is a hot morning and you have had a long walk.”

She lifted a silver cup from the table and carried it to him. She did not raise her eyes as she did so, and her long lashes traced semicircles on the white of her cheeks.

The wine was sweet and heady. The first sip had a curious effect on him, making him feel happy and exhilarated. He became acutely conscious of her charms. It
was
a hot day and his walk
had
made him thirsty. He drained the cup to the last drop.

“She is the loveliest woman in the world!” he thought, watching Helena, who had withdrawn to the other side of the room and was striking a gong. What grace there was in her walk! How lustrous were her eyes, how enticing the raven cascade that fell almost to her waist!

Simon appeared soon thereafter, followed by two servants. He also was dressed in garments of linen, but with a difference: the breast of his tunic was embroidered with scarlet figures and his white shoes were inscribed with scarlet crowns on the instep. He gave the visitor the benefit of a belligerent stare.

“So this is the young man who believes himself possessed of an evil spirit,” he said. “What is your name?”

“Alexander.”

Basil stared back at the magician. He found himself disliking this old man most intensely and at first he thought it must be due to the wine. On second thought, however, he decided that his antagonism could not be ascribed to the potion he had imbibed so readily. The wine had been making him look at things through a rosy mist. There must be another reason.

“Your occupation?”

“I am a student.”

“That is bad. Evil spirits prefer to enter the mind of a scholar. Even the mind of a raw student, such as I judge you to be, has an attraction for them. It may prove difficult to force this demon in you to leave, but I shall exert all my powers. Are you ready?”

It was on the tip of Basil’s tongue to say, “No, I have changed my mind. You are evil and I desire no help from you.” Catching Helena’s eye at that moment, he realized that she had arranged this meeting at his request and that he could not withdraw now. There was the possibility also that Simon, evil though he might be, would be able to give him freedom of mind.

“I am ready.”

Watching the preparations for the experiment, Basil realized that he was now filled with doubts. Nothing would come of this. It had been a mistake, he was sure. Because of Deborra’s earnest admonitions he had subjected himself to an influence that was causing her image to recede in his mind; and this, he told himself with a sudden sense of alarm, he did not want.

A chair was placed at one end of the room with a door behind it, and he was directed to sit there. A servant carried in a Persian rug and spread it out on the floor beside the chair. A tin vessel, about two feet high and shaped like a tub, was placed on the rug after being filled with water to the brim.

Helena’s voice at his shoulder said: “Have patience. Do everything he says. It will take a very short time.”

She had left the room a few minutes before and had returned by way of the door behind him. Although he did not turn to look at her, he was conscious of every movement of her linen skirts and of the unusual perfume she used. The image of Deborra receded still farther.

“What will he do?”

“He will tell you to look into his eyes and he will endeavor to exert sufficient force to reach the evil spirit inside you, commanding it to leave. If the power he exerts is strong enough, he will compel the spirit to give a sign on departing. It must spill the water from this vessel as it leaves your body. Only in that way can we be sure it has departed.”

“Have you seen it happen?”

“Oh yes. Many times.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Banish all doubts if you can; for my sake, as well as for your own.”

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. She was close behind him
and she smiled down at him, a warm and intimate smile which seemed to say: “You and I, Basil, you and I. We are in this together.” Her hand brushed his shoulder briefly as she stepped back, and he felt a tremor of delight.

“I am ready,” declared Simon.

The magician raised a hand to his forehead and stared at his subject from under it. The whites of his eyes were clearly visible. Basil was so completely held by the intent gaze of this strange old man that he forgot everything else, even the presence of Helena behind his chair.

“The evil spirit usually makes its way into the human body through the mouth,” said Simon, “but as you are a student, it may have gained entrance through your eyes. Open them wide. Wide, wide, as wide as you can. Keep them fixed on mine. Listen to the words I am saying.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the sorcerer began to speak. Basil tried to follow but found the glib sentences long and involved, made up of pompous phrases without meaning or coherence. This did not matter. It was the voice that counted. Simon was speaking in a singsong, the volume rising and falling, endlessly, it seemed. Basil realized that he was on the point of losing himself in it. He was finding it hard to keep his eyes from closing. He thought of sleep with a deep sense of longing.

He could see nothing but the eyes of the sorcerer. They had become enormous, so huge, in fact, that they filled all of space. They seemed like those of a gigantic owl, an owl as large as a feathered mountain. They were demanding his obedience, and he knew that he was losing all power to resist.

He had enough will left to feel alarm. He must not give in, he must find the power within himself to resist. With his last vestige of mental control he realized that he must break by physical action the spell fastening on him. With the most painful effort he succeeded in raising himself from the slumped position into which he had fallen and even in turning his body sideways.

The spell seemed to have been broken. The voice of the magician stopped. Basil opened his weary lids and looked about him.

And then the tub of water toppled over and the water spilled out on the rug. It began to spread in hurried streams on the tiled floor. He raised his feet instinctively to escape it.

He heard Simon say in a normal voice, “It seems that we have had a success.” The latter rubbed his hands together and nodded his head
with satisfaction. “I did not think any demon that ever dropped from a tree at the full of the moon could resist that final exhortation I gave it. Your demon, my young student, was in such a hurry to get away that he left us no reason to doubt his going. Every drop of water has been spilled. He is already on his way back, and in a very great hurry, to the lazar-cote or the sewage trench where he belongs.”

Still oozing content, Simon instructed the servants to remove the empty vessel and the water-soaked rug. “There is no man living today who knows more about demons than I,” he declared. “There has been this knowledge in Samaria for many centuries, but I have carried things far beyond the previous limits. The demons know the power I hold over them.”

When he had left the room Helena stepped close to Basil. “It has gone,” she said. “I hope you are content.”

Basil was silent for a moment. Then he gave his head a shake. “No,” he said. “I am beginning to think that Luke was right. He said that the only evil spirit that can take possession of you is the bad side of your own nature. I can see now that I have been letting my own evil instincts have full rein and pretending to myself that I was not responsible. I was sure I had become possessed, but it was no more than a sop to my conscience. I have learned that much today.”

“I do not understand,” said Helena with a frown.

“I came to my senses just in time,” he explained. “In another moment I would have been completely under his influence. But I roused myself and turned in the chair. As I did so, I saw the rug move. There was a cord under it that was attached in some way to the vessel with the water. At any rate, the vessel tipped and the water was spilled out. That destroyed the illusion with which I came. I believed that Simon was a man of strange powers. Now I know he is a trickster.”

Her face expressed both surprise and dismay. For a moment she made no comment. Then apparently she gave up all thought of denial or defense. “You are right,” she said. “
I
pulled the cord. Your eyes were too quick for us.”

“When I realized what had happened I began to think. It was clear to me that all magic was accomplished by a hoax of this kind.”

“No, no,” she objected. “What you see on a stage is trickery. But do not make the mistake of thinking that there is no real magic in the world. There are forces that cannot be explained or understood—dark and sinister forces. I know this to be true. I have seen strange things happen.”

“As to that, I do not know. But my eyes have been opened. From now on I shall try to find the cure myself for the dark moods into which I fall. If I succeed”—he paused and then indulged in a broad smile—“I won’t need to have a vessel of water spilled to tell me. I shall know by the peace of my own mind.”

“Then we have done that much for you.” Helena had been indulging in some disturbed thought. “We shall have to be more careful. I must talk to Simon about our methods and the props we use. We may find others with eyes as sharp as yours.” She gave him a quick glance. “You will not tell?”

He smiled and shook his head. “I give you my most solemn promise not to tell what I have seen.”

Her eyes were serious, even pensive, and filled with regret. “I am sorry that what I have tried to do for you has been such a failure. Do you think ill of me?”

“No,” he answered, speaking with some difficulty. For the second time he was feeling the fascination of a pair of eyes. He was well aware that this second experience in subjugation carried a greater menace than the first. “No, I do not think ill of you. I—I am afraid I think much too well of you. I came to have a spirit expelled, but it seems to have worked the opposite way. A second spirit has taken possession of me.”

“And do you think it magic? Ah, Basil, do not believe it to be the black kind.”

Before they parted it had been agreed that they would meet again. Helena had said: “There is all of life—all the years that count—ahead of us. We must not part like travelers who pass on the desert. Besides, I have things to tell you.”

Three nights later, therefore, Basil waited until after midnight and then started out, leaving with infinite caution by one of the rear doors. A moon close to the full was casting enough light into the narrow streets to make progress easy. He continued to exercise the most intense care, however, realizing that in the first place he had no right to be out at all, and in the second that anyone who ventured into the streets alone at such an hour carried a passage to eternity in his hands.

He reached the entrance to the Gymnasium without any troublesome encounters on the way. The street here had been widened to allow of
the passage in and out of large crowds, and he hesitated at the edge of the cleared space thus provided. There was no one in sight. Not a sound disturbed the stillness of the night. He allowed his indecision to stretch into minutes, nevertheless, watching and listening intently; then, with sudden resolution, darting across the square to the main gate. It was not locked, and he had no difficulty in making his way inside. The closing of the great door behind him had an ominous sound, like the triumphant clamping shut of a trap, and he stood still for several more moments in the darkness of the interior passage. Thinking that he heard a step behind him, a light and stealthy step, his hand went to the handle of the knife at his belt. Then the sound of his own name came to him in a cautious whisper.

“Basil!”

“Helena?”

A cool hand was slipped into his. Helena’s voice, still in a low whisper, conveyed the fear from which she had been suffering that he had forgotten his promise to come. “But you
have
come!” she added.

Their hands still clasped, they traversed the passage with extreme caution, for it offered no light to guide their steps. They came then to a turn and proceeded up a flight of broad stairs. At the top it was lighter, and they discovered an open door. It was clear that Helena knew her way about the building. She stepped through the door without hesitation, and they found themselves in the open, the arena stretching below and the seats in a great empty circle about them.

“Do you think I selected a curious place to meet you?” asked Helena, keeping her voice still at a low pitch.

This thought had been in his mind, for certainly it seemed a strange place for a tryst. They had the stadium to themselves. There was something ghostly about the empty space beneath them; this famed meeting place where Simon the Magician had labored so hard to fix doubts on the memory of the martyred Jesus of Nazareth.

“I could think of no other place that would be safe,” she continued as they found seats in the front row and huddled back against the high wooden back. “And it is easy for me to get here. The House of Kaukben is only a few streets away.”

“I am beginning to see,” said Basil, “that a better place could not have been chosen. Here we can talk without any danger of being overheard or interrupted.”

She had been wearing a veil that concealed her face. Now she thrust
it back and turned her head toward him with a smile. In the moonlight her eyes seemed enormous. They were darker and more mysterious than they had seemed to him before. Her nearness affected him as it had on the day when he sat under the ministrations of Simon; he was conscious of every move she made, the faintest rustle of her robe. When she reached out a hand and touched his sleeve, he was completely entranced and sat very still, fearing that any response he made would be too indicative of the state of his feelings.